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Jude

T he trap was already in motion.

We had cameras on the clearing, drones overhead, and River running silent ops from the van a mile out.

But to him , it looked like I was alone.

Just like he wanted.

I walked down the trail behind the house, slow, shoulders tense, eyes scanning the treeline.

I wore no gun.

No communication radio.

Nothing that looked like defense.

Just an old hoodie, jeans, and a thousand-yard stare I’d practiced in the mirror.

Let him think I was breaking.

Let him believe it.

I reached the clearing and stopped in the center.

Waited.

Breathed.

And then—movement.

Just a flicker, between the trees.

My heart pounded.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Let him come.

Let him think he was winning.

Because in exactly four minutes, Cyclone was going to light this entire place up.